


For Her King

by Traxits



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Deathfic, F/M, One Shot, Songfic, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amell completes the most difficult task that she could ever have imagined. Song fic to "My Skin," by Natalie Merchant. Massive end-game spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Her King

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer**: I do not own "My Skin," by Natalie Merchant, I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, and I make no profit from these writings.

_Take a look at my body_   
_Look at my hands_   
_There's so much here_   
_That I don't understand_

Slowly, she drew a breath, and her fingers on tugged the laces of her bodice. It had been a long time since she had gone through the motions; since she had prepared herself so thoroughly for something. The last time had been her joining, actually. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, she could almost remember that evening, sunlight warm on her face. Her body was light, her heart pounding steadily in her chest as she remembered the heat of the bonfire, the gaze that Duncan had sent her--

_Your face saving promises_   
_Whispered like prayers_   
_I don't need them_   
_I don't need them_

Crashing from outside of her tent drew her back to the present. She needed to be quick. Her gaze flicked back over the sleeping form in her bedroll. He wouldn't wake for another few hours; she had given him a potion to be certain. She didn't want him to stop her, didn't want him to tell her that she didn't have to. He would never know about Morrigan and her plea for their lives. She reached out, her fingers brushing his forehead lightly. He had given her one last night, and now she would give him a future. She would give them all a future.

_I've been treated so wrong_   
_I've been treated so long_   
_As if I'm becoming untouchable_

She stepped out, staff heavy in her hand. The flap to her tent fell behind her, and she lifted her head, meeting the gaze of the three who were to go with her. Only they knew of her plan, only they knew everything that -- No. Not everything. They didn't know what had happened to Morrigan. They probably assumed that she was sleeping still, as was everyone else. A hand clapped down on her shoulder, and she smiled softly at the gruff warrior who had never once reached out to touch her. Wordlessly, she reached up and touched the side of his face, which startled him, she thought.

_Contempt loves the silence_   
_It thrives in the dark_   
_With fine winding tendrils_   
_That strangle the heart_

She would miss them all. If she could, at least. One last glance at her tent, and then the three of them began to walk. Were it not for the stone in her chest, she could almost believe it was any other day. Sten was at her side, a blade wider than she on his back; her faithful hound, saved in Ostagar, led the way, using his nose to scout ahead. She realized that she was trembling when she held out her hand to him, wanting to feel his thick fur one last time. Her bard, her best friend, followed them, silent for perhaps the first time since she'd found them in the tavern.

_They say that promises_   
_Sweeten the blow_   
_But I don't need them_   
_No, I don't need them_

Not even Greagoir could fault her for this, she realized. She was finally proving that even a mage could save their country. Even a mage as cursed as she could-- She swallowed, dislodging some of the _thing_ in her throat. They approached the edge of the city. _He_ should have been with them, with her. But not even she was that cruel. She had said her goodbyes the night before, and by the Maker, she _prayed_ that he had recognized it for what it was. Somehow, she knew that he hadn't, and it made a piece of her crack each time she thought about it.

_I've been treated so wrong_   
_I've been treated so long_   
_As if I'm becoming untouchable_

The darkspawn met them, wave after wave. The four stood fast however, working as quickly as they could. Riordan had discussed the battle plan the night before. Luring the demon to the highest point was their best chance for survival in Denerim, since the highest point was a controllable area. As the creatures fell before them, they pressed on, careful to keep from getting surrounded as best they could.

_I'm a slow dying flower_   
_Frost killing hour_   
_The sweet turning sour_   
_And untouchable_

She was on autopilot the whole journey, the whole battle. And not until they were before the archdemon itself did she snap out of it. Leliana had a ballista, and the shouting and the panic...It all fell away as she met the gaze of the beast in front of her. Something in her heart sang and rejoiced upon seeing it, even as the rest of her recoiled in horror. The _Warden_ in her wanted to see the demon; it wanted to embrace the taint that flowed so freely around them both.

_O, I need_   
_The darkness_   
_The sweetness_   
_The sadness_   
_The weakness_   
_I need this_

Her fingers tightened around her staff, and then released it. From a fold of her robe, a dagger appeared, and the light glinted sharply off of it. She would need something that could sink into the skin of the beast, and a wooden stick wouldn't manage it. She swallowed, and it felt as though everything had stopped breathing. As though she were floating, sinking-- She was everything and nothing all at once.

_I need_   
_A lullaby_   
_A kiss goodnight_   
_Angel sweet_   
_Love of my life_   
_O, I need this_

Then _he_ appeared before her: the figure in the golden armor. Tears pricked her eyes. She had seen him before only once, at her Joining. Now he was helping her once again, approaching her, wrapping his hand around the hilt of the dagger. He wasn't real, she knew that much, but his presence was so overwhelming, and the scent of--

_Do you remember the way_   
_That you touched me before_   
_All the trembling sweetness_   
_I loved and adored?_

She gasped as she looked at him, now that he was close enough for her to see. She knew him; if indirectly. "Maric," she whispered. He smiled, and it was _his_ smile, the one she had left behind. He would be waking now; he would know what she had done. The pain that blossomed through her was immense, and it wasn't until she heard her hound's screams that she realized what had happened.

_Your face saving promises_   
_Whispered like prayers_   
_I don't need them_   
_No, I don't need them_

A spike was stuck in her side, and she gasped, blood dribbling out slowly around the spike. She looked up, and she thought she saw gold. Leliana was screaming, and Sten was staring, but it was her hound that broke her heart. He was latched onto the beast, causing it to scream and struggle as it attempted to loosen his iron jaws. A faint smile curved her lips. Even to the end, he was her hound. He would die for her, even if he knew that she was here solely to die for them.

_O, I need_   
_The darkness_   
_The sweetness_   
_The sadness_   
_The weakness_   
_I need this_

She lurched forward, barely able to stand, let alone run. The dagger was tight in her hand. She had no energy left for a whispered spell, no means of ensuring that it would happen. However, Sten saw her move, and his blade came crashing down again and again. The beast was weakening. It was her moment. She flipped the dagger in her hand, a trick she'd never managed to do smoothly in the camp under Leliana's eye. She managed it now however, as she barreled toward the archdemon. She lost her footing in a puddle of the dragon's black blood, and she slid, her heart stuttering in her chest. Had she lost her chance?

_I need_   
_A lullaby_   
_A kiss goodnight_   
_The angel sweet_   
_Love of my life_   
_I need this_

But no, the slide placed her exactly where she needed to be. The dagger drove deep, laying into the dragonhide far more easily than it probably should have. She could almost hear Zevran's approving laugh. A certain artistry to the deed; the Antivan was right. Blood poured from the beast, coating her, but it was nothing compared to the sudden bright light and flooded through her. She was on _fire_, every nerve ending in her body alight with pain.

_Is it dark enough?_   
_Can you see me?_   
_Do you want me?_   
_Can you reach me?_   
_Or I'm leaving_

She could feel something forcing its way through her, too large, too bright, too...everything for her body to handle. Her mouth was open, but no scream would come out, as not a single muscle was responding to her control any longer. A hand grasped hers, and she gratefully took it, stepping out of the body that caused her so much pain. Sounds fell away, the howling, the sobbing-- It was all gone. Silence filled her, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a light that could have blinded her. She had done it. Even a mage as cursed as she could die for her country; for her king.

_You better shut your mouth_   
_Hold your breath_   
_Kiss me now, you'll catch my death_   
_O, I mean it_


End file.
